


Sugar Spice and Everything Nice

by myrskytuuli



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Don't Take This Too Seriously, Gen, Lily and Severus just need to communicate, Meta, Narcissa and Severus being feministic disasters, Regulus is a cinamon roll, Trans Female Character, Voldemort handing out free booze, dubious feminism, trans snape week in tumblr, trans woman snape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 21:59:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5432306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrskytuuli/pseuds/myrskytuuli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus Snape might have been born with a penis, but she is undoubtedly a witch. Written for the trans snape week in Tumblr, or the one with dubious meta and dubious allegories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar Spice and Everything Nice

Severus Snape was born wrong. He has always known this. The knowledge has been Severus’ silent companion for as long as he has been aware of himself. Severus had had help of course. Lots of helpful souls to remind Severus of the fact.

There is Severus’ father, who’s silent disapproval seeps into every corner of Severus Snape’s being and during his early childhood defies every aspect of his life. At that tender age, when his mouth is still a patchwork of milk- and permanent teeth, Severus doesn’t know why his father disapproves of his child so much, just that he does. Severus goes to school and is disapproved by the other children, but at least those children are courteous enough to list all the ways that Severus Snape is wrong.

Mostly it is about being poor, being dirty, being pale and sickly looking, being prone to mutter about spells and magic when left alone, but mostly it is some more abstract wrongness that the other children sense.

It might have to do with pale child’s mother’s clothes that are sometimes found hanging over too small body. Or the way the dark eyes hungrily follow the little girls with their skirts and ribbons and overall girliness.

The pale child comes to school with half-dead flowers tucked in the greasy black hair, until the young boys will not tolerate it anymore and rip the flowers and some of the hair off, laughing and screaming with shrill childish voices.

Lily Evans never knew about the wildflowers woven into the black locks. She and Severus went to different primary schools.

 

In Hogwarts everything is so much better and so much worse. Severus is finally out of the miserable muggle neighbourhood, surrounded by magic, surrounded by green and silver and finally being allowed to nurture and grow the magic inside, instead of stamping it out.

But in Hogwarts the silent disgust of Tobias Snape has turned into a silent disgust of the rich and noble purebloods that have to share a dorm with a sickly looking kid with a funny accent and robes bought from a thrift store. In Hogwarts the threat of a drunken fist has been exchanged to a threat of a malicious jinx hurled behind a shield of red and gold. In Hogwarts Eileen Snape’s averted eyes have been exchanged with the cheery ignorance of Horace Slughorn.

In Hogwarts Severus Snape doesn’t tuck flowers into hair that is still as greasy and unkempt as ever. In Hogwarts Severus Snape starts to form a name to the wrongness. The knowledge forms with every twist of stomach that comes with the pronoun “he.” The knowledge forms with the heavy steps towards the boys dorms, and the knowledge solidifies in the showers where the bile almost rises up every time Severus is forced to face the wrongness of the body in the bathroom mirror reflections.

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t know what she possibly could say. Many things are different in the magical world than in the muggle one, but this is not something that even the magical world would understand, Severus suspects.

So she avoids the showers, hides behind the curtain of her hair and tries to blend in. After all, compared to the life she left behind in Cokesworth, her new life in Hogwarts is like a dream. She has the library, she has the lectures and she has her wand and she has Lily there by her side.

And still the wrongness eats her and wets her pillow with silent tears in the middle of the night. She is trapped in a body that doesn’t feel familiar. When she walks up the stairs to the boys’ dormitories, she feels the magic nipping at her heels. _You don’t belong here._ The magic seems to say. Many times she longs to try to stepping on the stairs leading to the girls’ dormitories, but never dares. If the stairs were to throw her down, because of the body she is trapped in, she wouldn’t be able to bear it. So she never tries.

 

Life isn’t fair, this Severus has known all of her life, but somehow it seems that life is inappropriately unfair to her and that she had been a naïve child to think that Hogwarts would somehow make her life better.   True, she has magic and her wand and her Lily, but with every passing year those three things start to weigh less and less when weighted against all the bad things that Hogwarts is spitting on to Severus’ face.

There comes the disillusionment when she realizes that no matter how intelligent she is, it will always matter less than her blood. Tobias Snape has taken half of Severus’ worth as a hostage and no number of perfect essays and potions, which are ahead of their year group, are going to bring it back.

Those who do not mind about the blood, will mind the colour of Severus’ tie. The silver and green scarf tightens around her neck, like a noose and the jury are just waiting for her to slip on her stool.

Those who mind neither the blood nor the tie, will mind the greasy hair, the shifty eyes, the biting words and the morbid books that she tries to hide between her school books.

The marauders of course are a plague all on their own. A pack of charming picaresque novel heroes, pouring tar down her schoolbag, whispering horrible names into her ears when she is pressed against the wall, setting the hems of her robes on fire and tripping her on hallways.

 _“Oh come on! Man up Snivellus! Were just having a laugh. It’s not our fault that you fight like a girl. I bet your parents are disgusted to have such a crybaby as a son.”_  

With every year her words grow sharper and books hidden between her schoolbooks more morbid.

Severus doesn’t like talking to anyone expect Lily, but she finds the company of boys in her dorm more bearable than that of the other girls in her year. Listening to the girls talk amongst themselves fills her soul with ugly sharp jealousy that the brutish company of Mulciber doesn’t evoke. With Lily, Severus can push the jealousy aside and just enjoy her sunny smiles and sonorous laugh. Lily doesn’t mind that Severus has greasy hair and ill-fitting clothes. Being with Lily makes Severus feel more at ease in her skin. It is almost like Severus can absorb some of Lily’s femininity when they are together. Severus’ voice is softer and her movements more graceful and so many times Severus wants to tell Lily. To voice the knowledge that eats her up and weighs her down. The secret she dares not to voice.

But Severus never says anything. She cannot risk losing Lily. Not even for this. Not even to ease the weight of her soul being crushed under the secrets.

So while talking to Lily is the highlight of all Severus’ days, the other girls she avoids. People see her glancing at the girls behind the fringe of black hair with hungry eyes and draw their own conclusions. _“Well let’s be honest, that’s closest he is ever going to get to a girl, the creep.”_ They will whisper and laugh and conveniently ignore Lily Evans who is obviously just too nice for her own good. Severus will hear the conveniently too loud whispers and will have to concede in the privacy of her own mind that they are probably right. She is trapped in a male body and with it come demands and trappings that she doesn’t know how to get out of.

Once, when she is crawling on the ground trying to retrieve her wand before James Potter snatches it up, she thinks that if she had a female body, the teachers wouldn’t let the marauders treat her like this. The marauders probably wouldn’t want to treat her like this.

She loathes her traitorous thoughts because they taste like defeat and she has more pride than that. She will just have to be quicker, smarter, more cunning and the marauders will never be able to touch her again.

 

Severus and Narcissa drift into friendship by accident. Narcissa is not someone Severus would have sought out on her own, and when Narcissa then seeks Severus out, Severus finds herself understandably confused.

Narcissa is stunning, with her fountain of silvery hair, the perfectly symmetrical face and the pale skin that, unlike Severus’, seems to glow a healthy shine; but her grey eyes are hard when she sits opposite Severus in the slytherin common room, resting her elbow on the polished table and cocking her head aside. She looks like a raptor judging a prey and Severus cannot ignore her, but has to raise her own eyes to meet the grey ones.

“Severus Snape.” She states. “Lucius has spoken highly of you.”

Severus knows for a fact that that is a lie. Lucius Malfoy doesn’t speak highly of anyone. Lucius speaks in a future tense when sweeping to comfort the young and the uncertain. You have potential. You could be better. If you just stopped doing that. If you just follow my lead. You could finally become something. Maybe one day you will be what I made you to be. Lucius doesn’t make friends, he makes investments.

Narcissa Black, seventh year, pure blood of the highest standing, is the greatest investment that Lucius Malfoy has made in this castle, every slytherin knows this. Lucius has invested a ring with sparkling diamonds and shiny platinum engravings into Narcissa Black.

Severus isn’t sure why Narcissa has decided to approach her. It is like throwing your most valuable family heirloom into a pile of old knuts.

“I have heard rumours of your capability in research and innovations when it comes to spells.”

She isn’t wrong. There is a sixth year potions textbook full of scribbles and corrections. The margins of the fifth year textbook have already been filled and marked with corrections. There was no more room to write, so Severus had moved to the sixth year book.

“I have read something of spell creation.”

Narcissa’s smile is amused, but it also has a touch of pride in it. “Likewise. I just happen to have a small project that I have been looking into when I have time. Just a little amusement for myself, but you might just find it interesting enough to take a look at.”

Severus feels flames of curiosity and desire kindle. “Well if you want me to.”

“Oh I insist.”

 

Narcissa’s project is something that involves heaps of books from the restricted section and some that are directly borrowed from the Black family library. It involves empty rooms that have been mysteriously cleared for them and several charms and spells insuring their privacy. It involves heaps of people ignoring the tight security that Narcissa’s “little silly, just for fun” research is wrapped in.

It involves an empty black journal pressed into Severus’ hands as a gift. This one she keeps much better guarded than all of the other books she has scribbled in. And unlike all the others, in this one she dares to write the words that she never dared to write in any others. Property of the Half-Blood Princess.

“Do you know why I choose you to help me?”

“Because of my superior intelligence.”

“Because you are a poor half-blood with no friends. You cannot betray me.”

“And what exactly are you researching that you have to guard so fiercely. After all this, I hope I won’t be disappointed.”

 

_-As professor Anconite has already pointed out, the influence of muggle tradition in our world cannot be dismissed when it comes to cultural studies of the magical world, but when it comes to his theory of cultural evolution of magical world, I must disagree. Instead I will argue that the gender divide between male and female is a natural phenomenon that can be observed also in other sentient magical beings. While professor Anconite makes an astute observation of how in ancient druidic and shamanistic cultures the terms witch and wizard have had different collocations than in the modern world, I would argue that the shift is merely linguistic, not cultural one-_

_-The Japanese practice in necromancy however has stayed in a time-bubble of a kind, unlike the western practices that have been shaped so much by the Roman Empire and its magical practices. In Kyoto I enjoyed much more freedom for my tastes than I could ever hope to achieve in Britain which is, for displeasure of many, tightening its laws against the dark arts every day. Even writing this might land me in prison, were I discovered. Still I cannot in good conscience deprive my fellow sinners of the accounts of delight I found amongst the cult of Izanami, the infamous organization in Japan that rouses the imagination of even Britons-_

_-That the link between women who have been turned into gorgons and sexual violence has still not been confirmed, and I would like to wager that never will be confirmed. It is mine and many others’ belief that these claims are just a plot by dark witches and creatures to try to attack against upstanding wizards of society-_

_-Tansy, Pennyroyal, Evening Primrose, Cotton Root Bark, Angelica, Parsley, Blue Cohosh._

“What exactly are we researching? If you just needed a potion, there wouldn’t be all these books here.” Severus points out to her new -friend? –study partner? –acquaintance?

Narcissa lifts her head. She wears no makeup and her long hair has been gathered up to a messy bun. Only Slughorn, Narcissa and now Severus know that this room is in use and currently only Narcissa knows for what it is being used. Severus has now spent three evenings holed in here, writing up entirely useless notes for bettering entirely useless potions. These are the notes that Narcissa hands to Slughorn to show what she is using her private research time for. The notes are presented with a charming smile, laugh, and pretentious small talk. Severus is never mentioned during those exchanges.

 This would enrage Severus, if her curiosity and desire towards the forbidden books littered over the private study room wasn’t greater. There was also a growing comfort of being included into Narcissa’s space. In here Narcissa looks more feral and more human and Severus sometimes wonders if even Lucius has seen Narcissa like this and why on earth does Narcissa tolerate Severus in her bubble.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what we are doing.”

“You are already doing your part. You are giving me the research that I can hand to Slughorn.

I even let you read my research books on the side.”

“Is this what you are looking for?” Severus has to ask. Letting her fingers brush over pictures in the old herb book. It is outdated and any wizard worth their Hogwarts education wouldn’t even glance its way for proper herbology knowledge.

_-Tansy, Pennyroyal, Evening Primrose, Cotton Root Bark, Angelica, Parsley, Blue Cohosh._

Narcissa glances at the detailed illustrations. “No.”

Severus lets the matter drop and doesn’t ask if Narcissa means, not anymore. Instead she picks up one of the books that Narcissa has already gone through and continues to read.

_-The Shikome, which the cult of Izanami conjure to unleash on their enemies, are terrifying creatures; much more vicious than the inferi that a British necromancer settles for. There have been dispute on whether the Shikome can be counted amongst the dead, or should be counted amongst dark creatures. A dispute which is still unsolved, but on my opinion hardly important. As a proud dark wizard I have always been more interested in action than in theory. However, for my displeasure I was still unable to harness the knowledge of summoning the shikome, as the secret is fiercely guarded by the dark priestess who not only refuses to show her face to anyone, but to her closest followers, but also rebuffed all of my attempts at communication in the most condescending and hostile manner. After consulting other dark wizards of Japan I found out that I was not the only one to be turned away. One can only imagine what an ugly hag the priestess must be-_

_-that I still stand by my earlier studies which clearly show that in early magical societies the distinction between genders was understood as a completely different concept than in our world which has been taken over by the muggle identity, something that disregards our transcendental nature as magical beings of our own right. The idea that we- as beings that are both capable of shapeshifting and removing our consciousness from our bodies, would have established our social norms around the expectation that we were capable of neither, is laughable. There has been clear archaeological evidence that early magical communities built their cultural norms around their magical identity or their spiritual self, rather than around their physical attributes-_

Severus meets Lily at their usual table in the library. They are barely few months in their fifth year and still it already feels like everyone around them is already racing towards the OWLs. Severus of course is confident in her skills, but with her usual workload of extra reading, it hardly makes difference.

“I haven’t seen you around lately.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Oh. With what?”

“Things.”

Lily’s lips twist. “Things. And is there a reason you can’t talk about those things.”

“It’s just some potion research. About new techniques and stuff. I’m just helping Narcissa with her NEWTs projects.”

“Why do you always lie?” Lily asks and there are tears swimming in her eyes, but she valiantly holds them back. “I thought we were best friends.”

“We are.” Severus assures her, but somehow the words make her feel guilty. They are best friends, have always been and Severus loves Lily, but sometimes she hates her too. She would never say this, but sometimes she wants to sink her fingers into Lily’s shoulders and shake her until she rattles, just so that she would be the one suffering for once. Lily, who is everything that Severus wants to be, but doesn’t deserve any of the venom that Severus is capable of spitting.

Lily swallows her emotions down, hides the storm inside her and forces the conversation to flow civilly again. “You’ve been spending lots of time with Narcissa Black?” There is a faint blush creeping onto Lily’s face.

“Yes. I think she likes to have some company that she isn’t related to.” Severus jokes feebly, her attention only half-way in the conversation. She still doesn’t know what it is that Narcissa is searching for. She doesn’t take notes, just writes down book titles and authors for further reference in her own notebook. And it is all so abstract. There doesn’t seem to be anything bridging the books she reads together. There is no goal that Severus can recognize in Narcissa’s work.

“Sorry.” Severus says, when she realizes that Lily has been talking and Severus didn’t listen.

“Nothing. It’s nothing. What did you think of the potions lesson yesterday?”

 

_-Then there is the so called female-monster theory that surfaces back every decade or so, claiming that there is clear statistical evidence showing that in the creature races the females are more prone to aggression and dark magic. While it cannot be disputed that Veelas, Harpies, hags, banshees, furies, merfolk, and lamias all have in common the fact that they could be seen as dark creatures and that the males of their species are hardly ever even seen, it cannot be said to prove that all magical creatures would fall in to this category. Besides, this theory is usually brought forwards only when certain groups want to support the claims that dark magic is more natural to women and their magical core. This claim is of course both insulting and unintelligent. When I think of my wife, her gentle voice nurturing our children, I cannot imagine that dark magic could ever take hold of such a pure heart. In my opinion, for a men the lure of power can be much more natural instinct, but for a woman to be taken by the dark arts, I do believe the individual would have to be of extremely perverse and wicked nature-_

Crash! The inkpot shattered against the wall. Narcissa took one breath, then another before sinking back to her chair. There were two spots of colour on her cheeks.

“I could help you, if you would let me.” Severus states from the sofa. Her sneer isn’t as audible as she had intended.

“I don’t need anything from you!” her eyes are on fire. “I need power.”

Severus shot up, humiliated, and pointed her wand at the blonde. “You think I have none. That I can’t be a threat.”

Narcissa lifted her eyebrow at the wand pointed at her face. The ice had slipped back into her veins. “If you weren’t so keen on pointing your wand at me in ridiculously over- execrated, threatening poses, I might actually be vary of you.”  

“Don’t antagonize me.”

Narcissa rubbed her eyes and suddenly Severus felt a bit silly; pointing her wand on the other girls face. Threatening the one person who had done nothing to truly deserve her rage.

“You are a mess Severus Snape. You take everything that you hear as an insult and you have no handle over your own emotions. I have rarely seen anyone dig their own grave as enthusiastically as you do.”

“You are not exactly a doll yourself.” Severus sneered, glancing at the broken teapot. Narcissa also glanced at it and with a lazy wave of her wand repaired the cup. There was a silence for a while, a heavy silence filled with possibilities. “I need power.” Narcissa continued, her voice trembling a little. “You understand that.”

“Yes. Yes I do.” Severus sat down. There was a weight of something in the air. A change taken. A shift in the balance.

“I don’t trust anyone. I am witch. I could trust you, but I want something in return. A secret for a secret.”

Severus told her.

Narcissa scooted to sit next to Severus and unloaded all the tar from her soul into the pale ear.

 

_-therefore the simplest distinction between the light magic and dark arts is that which is between order and disorder. Dark arts by nature go against, and try to alter the natural balance of the world. That of life and death. That of nature. That of civilised society.-_

Trust had brought freedom. Freedom to experiment with magic that would not be taught in the Hogwarts curriculum. Freedom to be feral, angry and vicious bitches who cursed the world together. Freedom to be angry without fearing the repercussions. It was intoxicating. It was a pretence of power that they were still searching for.

The journal of the half-blood princess was being filled with cursive that was by every page looking more and more feminine.

“My grandmother has a similar book.” Narcissa had told her. "She says that before all witches had one. Witches book’s they were called. Because only wizards were allowed to publish books, witchcraft was passed down from mother to daughter in secret books. She says that almost everything we are taught at school today is wizardy.”

“You are trying to learn witchcraft.”

“I’m trying to find out whether there truly is such thing as witchcraft. My grandmother believed that there was power in the female mysteries. She passed me the book and I don’t understand it.”

 

The words of Sirius Black keep echoing in her ears as she tries to read. The book is boring and has so far been nothing but waste of time. Her curiosity is tying her stomach into knots and makes the words blur on the pages.

_\- to teach young girls the repercussions of trusting strangers and stepping outside the protection of the path, her society. By breaking the rules placed upon her by the authorities, she invites the predator to take advantage of her naivety. The wolf devouring Little Red Riding Hood is used as an allegory for rape-_

Severus shuts the book and pulls her cloak on. She can either stay in her bed reading the most useless book about allegories in muggle fairy tales, or she can find out what lies at the end of that tunnel to shrieking shack.

 

I must ask you swear an oath-

I want justice! I want Black to face-!

An oath of silence-

Lupin’s safety! What about my safety-!

Do you truly want to ruin the lives of these young men for your petty revenge-?

If I wasn’t a slytherin-

I do not believe that Mr. Black is of a malicious nature-

So my life is worth nothing to you-

Boys will be boys. I’m sure we can all forget and forgive.

I will not be manipulated-

I will insist on your silence on this matter.

 

Severus doesn’t tell Narcissa what happened. Severus doesn’t tell anyone what happened. But the pressure bleeds through into her magic, twisting everything that comes from her wand to be just a tad tainted with dark. They experiment more, and their experiments are becoming more and more dangerous. Neither of them particularly cares, they both are being filled with too much bitterness to care.

During the day Severus will sit in the potions classroom learning how to make amortentia, and during the night she and Narcissa will decipher the recipes for forbidden dark potions, which will poison the field that they are administered to and make it impossible for a seed to grow inside.

During the day Severus studies for her owls with Lily and sometimes glimpses Narcissa in the library, studying for her NEWTs. They don’t even exchange glances, but then in their sanctuary, Narcissa will pull out a black dress and present it to Severus. “I wore it to a funeral once, when I was younger. I don’t need it anymore.” It fits like a glove.

“Listen to this. The writer has to be a wizard!” Narcissa gets up and takes a pose, a wine glass in one hand, the book in another. Her hair is undone and her eyeliner has smudged all over her cheek.

“ _For blood magic is always bound to violence, as blood in its natural state always stays unseen, and inside human body. In that way the blood magic always breaks the natural order of the world, where the human body is perverted by letting the blood out-_ What an idiot. You would think that wizards never see blood in their lives, for how much they romanticize it.” Narcissa giggles and the wine sloshes a drop over the rim of the glass.

On the ground is a bowl sitting inside a circle of candles. The bowl is filled with small bones, herbs and a dead rat. It smells awful.  

Severus also has her own glass of red wine. She has never tasted it before, and to her tongue it tastes foul, but she is learning to like the warmth it brings to her. She hopes Narcissa will bring more bottles with her in the future.  

Let’s see then, if necromancy suits us. Narcissa says, putting the glass down and reaching under her skirts, for the bloody rag that she then throws into the bowl.

Severus stumbles only few times over the incantation, because of the wine, but the half rotten rat hops out of the bowl anyway.

 

“Severus please I just feel like I’m losing you!”

“Never Lily. It’s just that the Owls-“

“You are lying again. And it’s not about that. You don’t speak to me anymore. You don’t tell me things. And you hang out with those slytherin thugs. You can’t find what Mulciber does funny!”

“How is it any different than what Potter and his thugs do?”

“Well they don’t use dark magic for one-“

“No, they just hurt people-“

“And second, I’m not friends with the marauders.”

“Well I’m not exactly best friends with Mulciber either, I’m just being civil-“

“No. You’re best friends with Narcissa Black.”

“And what exactly do you have against her?”

Lily blew out a long breath. “Nothing I guess.” She said defeated, then grabbed Severus’ hand and started to drag him towards the stones by the lake. “I need to confess you something. I have been too scared to say it, but sometimes a Gryffindor has to do what she has to do.”

Severus felt the bang of guilt return. “Actually, I think I have to confess something too.”

“Okay.” Lily said, her eyes shining. They were now hidden behind the rocks by the lake, the place they had many times escaped when they wanted to be by themselves. Lily’s face was red, Severus’ was paler than usual. Both were nervous.

“I’m in love with you.”

“I’m a girl.”

“What?”

“What?”

“You’re not a girl, you’re a-“

“In love! With me?-“

The conversation doesn’t get better the more time they spent untangling the thorns of secrets that they have let grow between them.

“No Severus, It’s not-, it’s just a lot to take in. I still care about you of course I do! But I’m allowed to be disappointed-“

“What! Disappointed that you didn’t get what you want-“

“Disappointed that you don’t love me back!-“

“So you only ever cared about me for my dick!-”

“You’re not even listening! Why do you always take everything as an insult?!”

 

Their next conversation is had when Severus is being dangled upside down by the marauders. They both hate James Potter, but they are women, so they hurt each other instead.

 

Narcissa graduates, Severus spends the most miserable summer he has ever had in Cokeworth and the world keeps moving. Tension in Hogwarts tightens, the atmosphere becomes darker and Severus grows up. She lives in constant fear that Lily will in her anger spill out the secrets that Severus had confessed to her, but apparently she doesn’t. The marauders still call her names and hex her in the dark, but they still think that she is a boy.

Narcissa sends letters very rarely, but for her eternal surprise, Severus isn’t lonely. Regulus has asked Severus to tutor him and his eyes hold nothing but admiration when they study together. Mulciber and Avery include him and everyone in slytherin common room seems to suffer from amnesia when it comes to Snape’s blood status. 

Severus still keeps her journal under her pillow and in it she plans recipes for a potion that would melt her penis away. She hasn’t dared to test anything. Not yet.

 

Severus Snape meets the dark lord on the Christmas break, when the air tastes like sugar. It looks like all of the slytherins have been invited to the Malfoy ball, and the rumours about the Malfoy-celebrations fall utterly short of the truth. Severus is sure that the decorations in the lobby cost more than her family home in the Spinners end.

Severus would hate it, if the wine wasn’t flowing as freely as it is and if Regulus wasn’t attached to her side the entire night. Halfway through, Narcissa finds the two of them and drags them towards the more silent parts of the mansion. She smiles to Severus and Severus feels her heart skip a beat when she recognises that the smile Narcissa wears isn’t fake. “Merlin Severus, how much have you been drinking? Regulus, how much has Severus been drinking?”

“A lot.” Regulus stammers, the traitor.

“Oh, come then, let’s go to the garden.” Narcissa guides the two minors to the spacious Malfoy garden, where the snowflakes flutter through the air. From the inside a raucous laugh can be heard, then some delighted screams, which are followed by a loud bang. The second floor window shatters and something hurtles through the air, exploding in the air. Severus isn’t sure why, but she finds all of this incredibly funny and giggles. The air starts to taste like sugar after the remains of a barrel drop to the ground around the trio. “They blew up the spice room.” Narcissa exclaims. There is a flush on her cheeks and Severus thinks that it is incredibly unfair that Narcissa had just blamed Severus for drinking too much. The thought doesn’t stay for long, nothing seems to stick for long in Severus’ head when she is this plastered. Instead she notices that Regulus has the most beautiful eyes in the world and without thinking about it too much, she grabs Regulus. “Let’s dance.” Regulus flushes a perfect scarlet, but doesn’t say no. Instead he gathers Severus in his arms and spins her round and round. The air is still thick with sugar-dust and Narcissa laughs her perfect bell like laugh, the one that doesn’t sound cruel.

Severus realises with a jolt that she is happy and tumbles. She is guided to sit on the edge of a fountain and Narcissa sits on her other side. She has a glass of shampain again in her hand. Severus doesn’t know where she got it. “Can I have a dance too?” She asks Regulus and hops up, setting her glass down. Regulus laughs and makes some remark about the dance lessons that he had attended as a child. Apparently Narcissa and Regulus had the same teacher, which they both love to imitate while spinning wildly around. Severus helps herself to Narcissa’s shampain glass and watches as the two spin so wildly that both topple down into the rose bushes. She feels that she should help, which would be easier if the ground wasn’t spinning under her feet.

When all three have been released from the rose bushes, Regulus is leaning heavily on Severus and Narcissa is trying to steady both of them and the air still tastes faintly of sugar.

It takes a while for Severus to notice the man who has come to gather them from the garden, but when Severus does notice him, he can’t take her eyes off of him. He is the most handsome man that Severus has ever seen and his smile is good humoured when he sees the less than dignified trio. Even the man’s red eyes don’t make his face look any less friendly.

“You kids are going to get sick if you do not get warmed up soon.” Severus giggles. She isn’t sure why, it just seems like the thing to do.

“Come on.” The man guides them inside and finds a bed for Severus to pass out on. The next morning the same man finds Severus throwing up in the trashcan and hands out a potion that both calms the stomach and lessens the headache. It is only the first kindness that endears the man to Severus.

“I have heard great things about you Severus Snape.” He says and doesn’t treat Severus like dirt.

 

Being part of Lord Voldemort’s secret society has many perks, including the potions apprenticeship that Severus would have never gotten alone, and the sudden respect that she is shown amongst those who used to sneer at her, but the true ecstasy comes during the midnight gatherings.

There are countless rumours about what goes on in the revelries, and some of them are closer to the truth than others. In all honesty, not even those who participate always know what is happening. It had started with the restoration of the old ways and celebrations. Samhain, yule, solstices, and the Waplurgisnacht are celebrated with ecstatic enthusiasm, even if half of the revelers probably can’t even spell the names of the festivals they are suddenly so enthusiastic about. And when the dull days got too long, there were always new sacred traditions to bring back. Yggdrasil Day, Vali’s Blot, Lammas.

Muggle-made wine ends up flowing freely in a festival that’s name none of the party goers can pronounce, but what does it matter. Nobody brings up the fact that nobody knows what Karhunpeijjaiset is actually supposed to be about and instead drinks until the world is exciting again.

They revelled in their own personal perversions. Their Bacchanalia becomes infamous and from years to come the rumours would grow wilder and bigger. Not all of them are wrong and in the future Severus will never tell anyone of his involvement, mostly because it is not easy to remember what was truly going on under all the haze of drugs and noise. It is entirely possible that the atrocities that the death eaters would become so famous off were being practiced even in those gatherings, where no one yet sported a dark mark and where politics were the last thing on anyone’s minds. If they were Severus never saw. Not then.

Then there was only the dance, the fire. They were the reborn maenad. There were flowers woven into Severus’ hair as she spun around, claiming the night during the witching hours. They lived in two worlds at once. In the world of rigid pure blood hierarchy and tradition, and in the world of the ecstasy where everyone wore masks, and was free to act out as they wanted. Where Severus always joined the dance of the witches and no one knew to pull her away. Where Regulus had the courage to pull both boys and girls to darkened shadows to feel himself wanted and desirable, where Narcissa took part in sparagmos and omophagia both and let her hair tangle with filth and felt powerful.

It didn’t last.

 

They all firmly believed that as good as the secret celebrations were, they paled compared to what the dark lords marked followers did. The inner circle were the ones with all the secret knowledge and power. If you just gave yourself to him, he would fulfil all of your secret desires.

This was a lie. The festivals were nothing more than ghost lights, will-o’-wisps that disintegrated once you got too close. And when you were close enough, you saw that you were stuck in swamp that smelled of rotten things. The masks stayed on, but now instead of freedom, the masks came with obligations. Now their every move was staged, who stood where in the circle, when to bow, when to turn your head. Like clockwork they went through the motions as lord Voldemort postured and monologued. He had a vision for this country. He had plans. He had lots of things.

Severus did not have flowers in her hair. She barely had her humanity anymore. She only had rage and vague hope that this part of serving the dark lord was just a temporary phase. That tomorrow Voldemort was going to start working towards the future that had been promised when his followers initially joined. The werewolves wanted social reform. The vampires wanted to survive. The hags wanted revenge for the genocide of 1873. Known supporters of Grindewald wanted to create a world where their children could grow without a shadow trailing over them. The half-bloods in slytherin wanted the same opportunities as the pure bloods. The poor rabble of the knockturn alley wanted a chance to escape the poverty trap. The old and noble houses mostly just wanted to escape the utter boredom that their secured lives trapped them in.

Bellatrix Black just wanted to see the world burn.

It were the children from the old and noble houses that rose in Voldemort’s ranks. It was Bellatrix that was given praise. It was Lucius Malfoy, who complained that the mudbloods were ruining the aesthetic that he had preferred in Hogsmead, who was taken seriously.

But desperate people cling to any hope, even if they aren’t technically people, so the werewolves, the hags and the vampires stayed.

They all realised that they had two options. To go to Azkaban or to nod and smile as Voldemort presented the rich and bored with even more money and even more boring ministry positions. Then they would nod and smile while the said rich and bored complained about the dullness of the ministry work later. “I don’t understand why we don’t hunt and raid the mudbloods nightly, like was promised to us. I do hope the war picks up soon.”

 

 

Lily and Severus meet once during the war. It is before the prophecy, before Severus switches sides. It was when Lily was still an auror, instead of a worried mother, and when Severus was still a death eater instead of a spy. Their duel was vicious, violent and entirely meaningless. They were trading blows in exchange of the men who had ordered them to exchange them, but in the end the outcome of this duel would not change anything for the war.

“You know, you never asked if I suffered too.” Lily says, because apparently she believes that this would be a prudent place to start airing their dirty laundry. In a middle of a duel. “I was so angry all the time. I was so angry at the gryffindors who would call me a fangbanger, I was so angry at the slytherins for calling me a mudblood. I was so angry at the headmaster who knew what they called me and did nothing. I was so angry at all the boys who found my muggle upbringing exotic. I was so angry at you for lying, when you said that it didn’t matter that I’m muggle-born!” She used a hex as an exclamation mark. Severus parred and answered with hex of her own. It found its mark and knocked Lily off of her feet. Lily didn’t lose her grip of her wand, but with a furious wave knocked Severus down, who had lowered her defences thinking that it would take longer for Lily to gain her bearings again.   

“You never told me.”

“Because you never asked you miserable bitch! You just assumed that I was happy listening to your tirades and never had worries of my own.”

“What worries?! Your life has always been perfect you cunt!”

“Yeah! can’t you see me practically radiating happiness right now.” She spits out a clump of blood and sneers. She learned this sneer from Severus.

“You could have anything you ever wanted. Somehow that’s still not enough?”

“I could never have you.”

“Oh! You just can’t get over the fact that I wasn’t your boytoy-“

“I could never have your trust! Your friendship! I wanted you to trust me. To see me as your equal, instead of some ideal!”

Severus never saw Lily again after apparating away from that battlefield. They had stitched each other’s mouths shut too tight when they had been children, and now ripping the stitches out hurt too much.

 

After Narcissa gets married, she sends her grandmother's book to Severus. Severus doesn’t read it. They are all too disillusioned and bitter to have strength to reach for anything anymore.

 

_-Read enough and you will learn that for a witch there is no crime greater than seeking power. The oldest surviving texts concerning magic are those of holy nature and from those we can trace back the early forms and attitudes towards magic. There is a reason the children today are taught only the importance of a wand. Witchcraft has always been subtle, it has never demanded attention as the bright and loud wizardry. And witchcraft has always been ugly. It has always been messy and painful. Witchcraft has always been proud Lilith banished to dessert and stealing babies from young mothers. Witchcraft is goddess Izanami speaking before her turn and being abandoned into the underworld. Witchcraft is the goddess_ _Hine-nui-te-pō, choosing to give in to darkness rather than marry her father. Witchcraft is Louhi, the mother of all evil, who needs to be brought down so she can’t protect her daughters anymore._

_Witchcraft is above all wisdom to see the world as it is, not as you are told to see it._

Severus dies an ugly and painful death that tastes like blood and filth. She dies looking into eyes that she has both hated and loved and always protected in an equal measure. She dies torn apart by a giant snake, she dies because her lord suspects her of possessing power.

“What an archetype you grew up to be.” Says the three to Severus when she dies. She isn’t taken to king’s cross, she isn’t met by old mentors, or white lights.

“But I guess you had to compensate. You were after all born wrong. We are sorry for that. These things do happen sometimes, but oh you were brilliant. My bright strong daughter. If only we could have given you a gentler world, oh we would have. Oh we would have.”

The Goddess, who is the maiden, the mother and the crone, cradles the soul of her fierce witch, who lived as a maiden her entire life, protected the children under her care like a fierce mother and who was seen as an ugly old crone by those around her.

“Death is an unavoidable, but there is still witchcraft in this world and there are still powers that wizards have no knowledge of.”

 

Severus Snape is reborn right.

 

“You look just like your father.” Albus Severus hears once again and isn’t impressed. He always hears that he looks like his father.

“You even got your grandmothers eyes.”

Albus Severus has heard that too, but rarely from someone so young. The witch in front of him must have done her research to the Potter family history.

“Thanks I guess.”

The prefect shrugs and motions for the rest of the first year slytherins to follow her. She isn’t pretty, with her swallow skin and unproportioned nose, but she doesn’t seem as bad as Al had imagined slytherins to be like. She has flowers woven into her greasy hair and there is an undercurrent of warmth in her eyes. Albus Severus feels like he can trust this witch who makes snide remarks of the defence against the dark arts teacher and gets lost in a tangent about potions. She isn’t pretty, but she seems like someone Albus Severus would like to have as an older sister.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Somebody help me, I had such a nice vision for this fic and then it ended up as this mess. Please tell me what you think, because I have no idea what I am doing anymore.


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